Breathe, For Love Tomorrow

Summary:
Alright, while my muse works on Hero of War and I wait for an update from my co-author, I thought I would throw this up. Original characters, but the main book canons are all here and they are all very in character, if I do say so myself. Read and Review for more - I need it more then you know! "Another set of passing feet – it happened often in a hospital – but this one too quick and smooth, not touching the ground enough between strides. A smell, a sweet and musky smell that made her lips twitch at the corners in a small smile. Then, a cool hand on the metal of the outside handle and the opening of the door. "

Notes:
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2. no one could save me but you

Lucy snuggled into the blankets, leaning out of the warmth only for a moment to grasp the cool bowl in her small hand.
“Oh, shoot.” She muttered, as the bowl tipped and a cascade of popcorn fell into her lap. She sighed and picked one up, holding it in front of her face, scrutinizing it. She could see the individual grains of salt even in the dim light of the television and once she decided it was sufficiently lint free, popped it and her mouth, using her tongue to roll it to the back of her cheek and biting down with a satisfying crunch. Her eyes flitted back to the tv – she wasn’t even quite sure what she was watching. She was supposed to be fasting for the blood tests but she knew it hardly mattered – the blood work would come back with nothing so a little extra whatever it was food would put in her blood wouldn’t really make an impact. No human doctor would see the difference in her blood – a shimmering strain that ran through her like glitter. No, only Carlisle with his vampire eyes would see it. In fact, she was counting on it. His curiosity was a guarantee, she hoped, that he would see the miniscule difference and look into it.
Because that was the only way he was going to find out not only what was different about her blood but what was similar. She glanced at the clock – the blinking digital numbers that always watched and saw everything and sometimes, it drove her crazy. Why was she thinking about the clock? She popped another few pieces of popcorn into her mouth, and sighed for the umpteenth time. She felt kind of alone in this room and in reality she was – she was the only one who was staying in the country furnished bed and breakfast. Downstairs, the middle aged woman who had helped her book the room was asleep. She should have been, too – it was two am and every normal person would be dreaming the night away. Of course, her father would be awake. He didn’t have a choice in the matter. She couldn’t imagine never sleeping. As it was she could go days without it – her witch blood made it easier for her to stave off exhaustion better then humans. But sleeping meant dreaming and to give up dreaming?
Dreaming was something she loved, something she used to be able to escape into when she felt sad or like she didn’t belong anywhere or to anyone. Heck, she didn’t even have a familiar yet – that was another let down. She wasn’t holding her breath – for all she knew there was too much human in her for her to be able to attract the remaining part of her soul. Was she even missing part of her soul? There was no good way to try and figure that out and who could she ask? Her mother was dead and her people – they weren’t even her people – were a dying breed. It wasn’t safe to be a witch or to practice magic anymore and most that did were considered frauds or fakes. Humans wouldn’t know a real witch if they cast a spell right in front of their eyes. She pushed the now half empty bowl of popcorn onto the side table and felt around for the remote before turning the TV off. She lay back, closing her eyes and wondering what exactly her father and his family of golden eyed vampires were doing. She wasn’t sure what vampires did in their free time – the only experience she had with vampires aside from her earlier visit to the doctors was the red eyes.
And all they liked to do was hunt and feed and run wild. She felt her eyes grow heavy and every now and again her line of vision would fade from the sky blue cotton of the pillowcase to the dark behind her eyelids. She felt her breath grow shallow and deep and sleep threatened to overwhelm her. She was afraid to go to sleep – afraid she would wake up back in Seattle in the discount motel and Carlisle would be gone, her father would be gone, and it would just have all been a dream. She was fairly sure the day, the events in the office – all of it – had been real. But his eyes, the simple memory of the liquid gold made it hard for her to separate dreams and desires from reality. He had to be real. The way he smiled, how cold he was, the sound of his voice. That was her father and he had to be real because if he was just a dream – if the long years she had spent trying to find him had been a dream, then she could walk up tomorrow in a small, dirty house with her mother washing her clothing out front with the goats in rural England, sometime in the early 1700’s. No, she couldn’t go back to that. She needed this all to be real, because she needed her father more then she had needed anyone in a long time. Sleep came, warm and comforting and she felt herself being pulled out of consciousness.